Clock Watching
by Rinolia
Summary: Matt and Mello in the hours before they kidnap Takada. Mello gets drunk and tells Matt he has beautiful eyes, and Matt tries to convince Mello they aren't going to die. "Let's keep talking; anything to stop clock watching."


**Author's Note**: Writing is such a freaking stress-reliever to me. I was feeling a bit peaky due to lack of sleep, a bunch of shit to get done, work, and a few days of being hungover might have factored into that too, but after writing this I feel considerably better. That being said, I meant to get this done a while back, but never got around to it due to starting Japanese classes and finally getting my license (I just got it four years later than the average American citizen, whatever). I don't think I can write anything with a one-hundred percent serious tone, either. That would be an interesting challenge to myself.

The M-rated part of this story is considerably short because I made the executive decision to make it so. I thought about it for a while and made it the way it is now because I didn't want that to be the focus of the story, because it's totally not. It could go in a good way or a bad way, because I know some people (myself included on occasion) only read M-rated stories for well, the M rating. My excuses aside, it still sucks, but please enjoy anyway and be so kind as to review and make my day. :)

Inspiration for this one came from "Clockwatching" by Jason Mraz.

**Story: **Clock Watching

**Author: **Rinolia

"This is fucking stupid," Mello stated.

Currently, both Mello and Matt were sitting at the kitchen table in their apartment sitting on opposite sides of the table, but both sitting sideways facing the stove, looking as the digital numbers that displayed the time.

"We could go like, do something," Matt suggested, lighting a cigarette.

Mello shot him a death glare. "Nothing we do is going to be FUN, Matt, when we both know we're going to die in about five hours."

"You don't know that we're going to die, Mels. Unless you acquired some sort of prescient knowledge, in which case I would have liked to have known when I was going to die a long time ago. Or I would've at least like to have known that they were gonna come out with a red DS after I had just got my black one."

"I fucking hate you. And you know it's the truth, which is why you're trying to smoke a full pack of cigarettes in five hours, because you know you don't have to save any for tomorrow."

"I always did tell people I hung out with your for your sheer ability to see the best in every situation."

"Just shut up, Matt," Mello sighed, and got up from his seat. "Well, fuck it. If we're never coming back to this place, I'm eating all the chocolate and drinking all the booze."

Matt watched Mello scuffle around the kitchen, taking his chocolate out of secret drawers, which Matt never understood why he hid it, because Matt certainly was not going to eat it, because he liked not being castrated. When Mello pulled the bottle of Smirnoff out of the cabinet with two shot glasses, Matt shrugged. He COULD shoot vodka like a champ, after all.

"I don't get it, Matt," Mello said mournfully, empty shot glass in front of him, as he bit into a bar of chocolate.

"Don't get what?" Matt asked, smiling to himself. Mello would always insist on going shot for shot with Matt, and it would always end a few shots later, Mello getting either philosophical or sad, and Matt making mental notes to make fun of Mello for it in the morning.

"It's so fucking dumb. We're about to die for this fucking . . . stupid idealistic goal of catching Kira and avenging L. And just because people are so fucking insecure and scared, they will agree that Kira is some sort of modern messiah, and I bet after we die thanks to this fucking Takada bitch, we'll be bastardized beyond belief. And I don't understand WHY."

"Well, you do carry a gun in the front of your pants and blow buildings up and kill Japan's police chief, Mel."

"Those things aside," Mello glared. "Don't people get that even killing criminals is fundamentally wrong? It's totally not a fair fight. And it's such a fucking pussy ass way of doing it too. Like, if you're gonna say that you're killing criminals, you should actually have the balls to physically KILL them. I bet Light Yagami has a small dick and is compensating for something."

Matt couldn't help but laugh. "Interesting theory."

"And you know what else is stupid?!"

Matt made a noncommittal noise, which translated into a 'what?'

"Fucking Near."

"Do you know from personal experience?"

"Shut the fuck up. He's such a little bitch. We're here, about to fucking die, just so that he can figure everything out after we're dead. We did all the real work, and he's just going to sit there in his fucking pajamas and twirl his hair and be all 'I figured it out cause I'm so freaking smart and all Mello managed to do was blow up his face and die and get Matt killed too,'" at this, Mello got quiet.

"Mello, if I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't be doing it," Matt reassured him, and that seemed like enough reassurance for Mello, as he went off ranting again, taking another shot for good measure.

"Why does Near wear fucking pajamas all the damn time? He should at least look a little bit more badass if he's going to be the one who gets all the credit for catching Kira."

"You mean by wearing leather?"

"Yes. Exactly."

Even while humoring Mello's drunken rants, Matt couldn't keep himself from looking back to the glowing digital numbers every few minutes. They currently now only had four hours before departure time.

Matt then looked back over at Mello, who was quiet again and staring into his empty shot glass.

"Matt . . . take off your goggles."

". . . Why?"

"Because I want to fucking talk to you."

Matt knew better than to try to argue about logic with a drunk Mello, so he complied and pushed his goggles on top of his head as Mello looked directly at him.

"I wish we could be together for this."

"Mel, you know that the plan doesn't work like that. I'll just see you after."

Mello seemed to ignore anything Matt was saying. "I want to look into your eyes when I die. You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen."

Matt sighed. That was another thing Mello liked to do when he got drunk: flirt with Matt. Matt usually ignored it, because that was exactly what Mello would do five minutes after sobering up, but hey, they only had four hours to live. Matt wasn't stupid, just because he wasn't going to talk all gloom-and-doom and relive everything in his life, thinking about what he could change and who he would apologize to and what he would do differently, it didn't mean he didn't know what was going on. He knew very well there was not a chance in hell they were going to get out of this one. You can't just waltz around and kidnap the Kira spokeswoman and get away with it. And besides, he had always saved himself the trouble for this part in life, as he always did exactly what he wanted, so he didn't have to regret anything during the last hours of his life. This, however, did not stop him from watching the clock and gladly downing shots of vodka with his surprisingly sentimental best friend.

"We're running out of time, Matt."

"Running out of time for what, exactly?"

"I don't know – to live? You've never taken advantage of me while I was drunk."

"There's still time for that, Mels. You're drunk right now, aren't you?"

"And who says I'd let you?!"

"Well, evidently you want me to. Talking about how beautiful my eyes are and chatting about me taking advantage of you."

Mello's eyes softened. "You really do have pretty eyes, Matt."

Matt rolled his eyes and joked, "do they make you go all weak in the knees, Mello?"

Matt supposed he was in love with Mello. Mello was the only person who really understood him, and he supposed he was the only person who understood Mello. He had lived with him for all these years and had never obtained any life-threatening injuries, so that was saying something. And Mello was his favorite person. He just always thought it was a little . . . juvenile to fall in love with your childhood best friend. But what the fuck, now it didn't matter. Even if it went all wrong, which was Matt's biggest fear, at least he wouldn't have to deal with it for long.

And with that thought, he leaned over the kitchen table and kissed Mello.

Before Matt even realized it – maybe he was drunker than he thought – Mello was over on his side of the table, and pulling him up off his chair by his shirt, lips back on his own. The two boys made their way down the short hallway in their apartment, a trail of clothing articles consisting of boots, pants, a striped shirt and a leather vest acting as breadcrumbs from where they started.

When they were in their shared bedroom, Mello fell backwards onto his bed, pulling Matt on top of him.

"Mello . . . are you sure you want to do this?" Matt asked.

"Does it really matter? It's not going to make any difference in a few hours."

"Mello . . . I don't want to do this if you don't mean it."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Matt, if you want me to tell you that I love you, I will."

"I don't want you to just say it if you don't mean it!"

"I'm starting to think you get off on threats to your life with all the stupid shit you say. Matt, you're a fucking idiot if you ever thought I wasn't in love with you. You're my best friend, and the only person I would ever let know the amount of shit that you do. Even if I didn't want to be in love with you, I would have to be because I think you're the only person in the world who can put up with my shit. And there isn't anyone else I would have asked to go on this batshit insane . . . adventure . . . with me while I secretly beat myself up all the damn time about putting your life in danger . . . nng, Matt, don't fucking DO THAT while I'm trying to tell you shit!" Matt had attached his lips to Mello's neck somewhere around the end of his speech.

"I heard enough," Matt grinned.

"You are such a dick!" Mello growled, but fisted his hands in Matt's hair regardless.

Matt grinned into Mello's neck, and started trailing kisses down his chest.

"Mel, I'm gonna need something for lube," Matt said.

"Top drawer."

Matt opened the top drawer of Mello's nightstand, expecting to find lotion or something of the like, but actually found a bottle of lubricant.

"Apparently you HAVE been anticipating me taking advantage of you."

"Shut up – you can use lube for . . . other . . . things."

"Yeah, and it's flavored just in case you get hungry doing these other things?"

"Matt, will you just shut the fuck up?"

Matt just grinned and shook his head while he coated his fingers with the lube. He carefully entered one finger into Mello's entrance, adding a second and third one after a bit. He figured he was going to have a headache later, and hoped it wouldn't interfere with the plan too much, what with the way Mello was pulling his hair.

Once he figured Mello was stretched out enough, Matt took his fingers out, and picked up the lube again, coating his cock with it. With his hands on either side of Mello, Matt slowly entered him. Once he was fully in, he stopped himself from moving in order to give Mello time to adjust. Mello had squeezed his eyes shut, and Matt kissed each one of the closed eyelids.

"Matt . . . move . . ." Mello breathed, bucking up a little.

And Matt did just that. Moving a bit slowly in and out at first, he finally built up a momentum of a steady pace, punctuated by heavy breaths and loud moans.

This felt different from every other time he had had sex. There was always a sense of loneliness before, from two people who were just hooking up because they were on the same page of missing something. He knew that he had never actually felt anything for anyone else he had slept with, and even if he had stayed the night, or even cuddled with them, it was only because he was lonely, and the other person was lonely. What he was doing presently, however, felt completely different than that. This seemed to be more like a promise that he was keeping to Mello, and that Mello was keeping to him.

A little while later, Matt could feel himself about to orgasm, so he moved his hand inbetween him and Mello, pumping Mello's length with each thrust. Mello came soon after, leaving cum on Matt's hand and both their chests, screaming so loudly it was probably a good thing they WEREN'T coming back to the apartment complex, and Matt came inside Mello a few thrusts after, kissing him and mumbling his name.

Matt pulled out of Mello and collapsed on the pillow next to him.

Matt sighed from where he was hiding in the pillow and said, "We have to leave soon, don't we, Mels?"

Mello, who was lying on his back, turned to look at Matt. "We really don't stand a chance, do we Matt?"

Matt knew they didn't stand a chance. They never had a chance. Even before the whole Kira thing started and L got killed, Matt knew he never stood a chance for a normal life. So the realization that his life would be ending shortly didn't really phase him, as he had come to terms with it a long time ago.

Regardless of his inner thoughts, Matt took Mello's hand, brought it up to his lips and kissed it, mumbling into Mello's fingers, "You don't know that, Mels."


End file.
